Text: a chapter in american folklore
"a chapter in american folklore" is the the eighth article to appear during the 1958-59 school year in the University of Notre Dame Scholastic humor column, "Escape". * By Charles Bowen: Scholastic, Vol. 100, No. 08 - November 21, 1958. Text A couple of weeks ago we had the privilege of witnessing an epic occasion in the annals of Midwestern anthropology. A nearly savage tribe, from the uncharted wilderness to the north of Chicago, agreed to hold one of its traditional ceremonials in the city at a comfortable, modern hotel, for the benefit of scientific observers like myself, many of whom have in the past set out with starry eyes and notepads in our hands (just the note pads, of course) and been forever swallowed up in the inscrutable North Shore Country. The ritual I attended is a very important one in the life of the savages. Theirs is a thoroughly matriarchal society, from which men are carefully excluded by the Guardians, a group of elders distinguished for their wisdom and ferocity. Yet it is the ambition of every member of the tribe, once she has completed her training course and been given the token (a scroll which confers on her the A. B., or Avaricia Baccalaureo) to set out into the alien world on the other side of the wall and snare, as soon as possible, a male from another tribe, preferably one with a great deal of "bread." (This untranslatable term apparently refers to economic well-being in the savages' quaint cosmology.) The great disparity between the goal of each tribeswoman and the life she is forced to lead while in the power of the Guardians is apparent. A young woman who has been trained for four years in the Spartan virtues required by the Guardians is hardly prepared to capture a male when she has never seen one or had a chance to leam his habits. This is important, as many of the males are extremely wily, especially those who have the most "bread" and are hence most desirable. Taking all this into consideration, the tribe ages ago instituted a gathering known as a Tea Dance. It takes its name from an archaic beverage which was anciently consumed at the gathering but now makes only a ritual appearance. To the gathering are summoned eligible males who are attracted by the bait, in spite of their traditional cunning. They are then exposed to the fledgling tribeswomen who have a chance to practice their huntsman's art before the chase begins in earnest. I found the young women to be generally schizophrenic, torn between the demands of tribal society: i.e., that they be clean, well-scrubbed, dress alike, and love one another, and the demands of the chase which, because of subversive rumors among themselves, they take to be that they be sultry, bewitching, better dressed than their companions, and in bitter and even vicious competition with one another. Most of them, under the influence of this necessary ambivalence, swing too far toward the antitribal routine, and outdo themselves in being sultry and bewitching. Their methods are many and varied. They compete in the style of their finery, a ceremonial garment called a sack, by each trying to see that her sack holds the same merchandise in a superior manner. They also display their various accomplishments in the way of wisdom and grace by holding impromptu contests in eyebrow-arching, cliche-inflection, and the making of ritual gestures with lighted cylinders of tobacco, from which they occasionally inhale smoke and try to exhale it in as poised a manner as possible. The males, in their turn, endeavor to demonstrate their desirability by uttering loud noises and consuming various grain beverages with greater speed or stamina than their companions. The young women, as the ceremony goes on, catch the spirit of the thing and soon begin uttering cries of their own. It is a poignant and delightful experience to witness these youthful attempts at social expression; however, a little too much of it can give one quite a headache, and so I retired before the ceremonies were concluded, to witness on TV a competition in a far-off place between bears and rams. * * * The residents of S---- Hall (whose name I am forbidden to mention) would like me to express their thanks to the ghostly Mr. Geist for showing them so cleverly the road to salvation. Who would have thought of naming a hero "Anatopolis?" In decent shamefacedness the residents of the hall have voted to devote all future Saturday morning gatherings to lectures on moral improvement, and have formed a compulsory weekly hall meeting devoted to discussing The Really Deep Things in Life. Careful checking revealed that there actually was a lot of loose talk going on about student (there I go again) Student Government, and the offenders have been banished. They are also petitioning the rector for permission to drain the gin and vermouth out of the coin machine and replace it with sarsaparilla, but his assent is doubtful. A special vigilance committee has been formed to prevent another outbreak of Anarchy like the one Mr. Geist so kindly warned them about. Thanks again, Mr. Geist. I would like to express my personal compliments to the young man who painted solid black chemises on all the naughty Hatful of Rain posters. The University Theatre is to be complimented, however, for not scissoring more lines than were necessary from their recent production. We can appreciate their courage when we contemplate the recent production of Oedipus Rex at St. Sophia's Academy for the Ugly. After a great deal of deliberation, it was decided that the play was not fit entertainment for young ladies the way it stood, so the ending had to be changed. Just as Oedipus is about to blind himself, the old shepherd reveals that he is actually Laius in disguise, and wasn't really killed at all, but was just playing 'possum, because he wanted to retire and get out of the rat race. Then a messenger arrives with the news that Oedipus' marriage to Jocasta was invalid, because the priest at Delphi hadn't been properly licensed at the time the ceremony was performed. Although the result is some distance removed from Sophocles, my correspondent, Miss Delight Repski, informs me that it made for good clean fun all 'round. Students in Badin Hall last week found that they were able to read Escape by the light of the sunset. Sensing something unusual, they rushed to their windows and discovered a large crater in the ground next to the library. It has been a source of speculation all over the campus ever since, but nobody can remember what used to be there. Pity. a